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Thursday, December 18, 2014

Read Chapter One of Saving the Sheriff by Roxanne Snopek

Previously released as part of the Stranded with a Hero anthology. Now available individually!

The power might be out…but the heat is on.

Every
year, free-spirited Frankie Sylva banishes her holiday loneliness with
good deeds. This time, she’s rescuing a truckload of neglected
reindeer—until a blizzard sidetracks her scheme, and now she’s
stuck…literally.

Local sheriff Red LeClair is shocked to find a
very cute, half-frozen woman trespassing on Three River Ranch in a
ditched rig, with a suspiciously empty trailer. Is she a horse thief? Is
she on the run? Is she out of her mind? He has no choice but to take
her back to the ranch and keep an eye on her.

But when the power
goes out, Red and Frankie are forced to depend on each other in a way
that both have avoided for years. The sheriff’s quiet holiday is
suddenly festive: a crackling fire, candles, carols, and an irresistible
stranger…who might be a felon.

Chapter One

What a way to spend
Christmas Eve. Sheriff Red LeClair tucked his chin into his chest,
the fresh assault of stinging snow enough to take his breath away. He
crunched through the ice-crusted path to the field where a small band
of wild mustangs waited patiently, barely visible as shadows against
the nighttime backdrop of cedar and fir.

“Carson spoils
you, you know,” he called to them, tossing a bale of hay onto the
ground beyond the beam of light thrown by his pickup.

The weather forecast
had predicted a dump of snow over the next few days, but the wind had
caught them all by surprise. The livestock would be burning a lot of
fuel just to stay warm.

Red threw down a
couple more bales, and with a quick flick of his utility knife, cut
the twine, spilling fragrant splits of summer over the snow. Beneath
the heavy-duty leather gloves, his fingers were stiff with cold, but
he wasn’t really complaining. In fact, he’d leaped at the chance
to look after Three River Ranch while his friend was away. Tramping
through the snow, freezing his butt off, was a damn sight better than
watching endless Miracle
on 34th
Street
reruns in his empty Lutherton apartment. Whoever said there’s no
place like home for the holidays obviously didn’t buy groceries in
single-serve portions.

Carson Granger
wouldn’t have left at all, except that his wife Rory’s mom had
given them and their little girl Lulu an all-expenses-paid trip to
Maui, where she was having a family-only Christmas wedding. To Red’s
way of thinking, step-father-in-law stretched the meaning of the word
family, but he wasn’t about to argue. He was grateful to have
somewhere to be and something to do.

Their next-nearest
neighbor, Zach, had promised to check in every day or two, on
Carson’s request, but Red could handle it on his own. He liked Zach
Gamble well enough but he didn’t need a babysitter. He didn’t
need any company at all. Christmas was a hell of a time for a guy
with no family to speak of, who’d signed his final divorce papers
less than a month ago.

He climbed back into
the truck and pulled away from the corral. At least this year was
better than last year. He’d gotten the position in Lutherton,
Montana, the same week Kayla got her first nibble from a recording
studio. It never occurred to him that she wouldn’t be as excited
for him as he was for her. When he offered to give up the promotion
to go to Nashville with her, he’d seen disappointment flit over her
face. It had taken him months to realize that her chance at musical
stardom was also her chance to start over, without him. And that
neither of them had been happy for a long time.

But that didn’t
stop the pain.

In his rearview
mirror, he saw the horses slip out of the shadows for their meal,
individuals appearing only as edges to the murky herd, moving as one,
a unit whose strength lay in numbers.

In the barn, he
dumped fresh kibble into the pans for the colony of feral cats that
lurked in the corners, fat and full-coated for the winter, big-eyed
with suspicion.

Even they
lived as a group.

Must be nice.

He pushed the
thought out of his head and forced himself to focus on his chores.
Work hard, be friendly, but don’t let anyone get close enough to
hurt you. That was his mantra now.

Every howl of wind
made the walls shriek and groan and he could feel the temperature
dropping by the minute. He added an extra measure of kibble in case
he had to hole up inside and wait out the storm.

Water lines clear,
check.

Fresh feed for the
saddle horses, check.

Clean stalls, check.

Gates, doors and
latches secure, check, check and check.

He slogged back to
the truck, thinking about the casserole Rory’s housekeeper Bliss
had left in the refrigerator for him, wishing he’d remembered to
bring beer. And some action movies on DVD. Lord knows it would be
slim pickings on TV. He’d spent last Christmas watching the tube
blindly, letting tinny laugh tracks and remixed music wash over him
as he sat numbly in the debris left by Kayla’s departure.

This year, he had
the lights and decorations on Rory’s pretty tree sparkling in the
corner. Second-hand joy was better than none. But those old favorite
movies and carols still hurt too much.

He pulled the truck
door open against the wind but before he could step in, the gale
yanked it from his hands. He barely managed to haul it shut behind
him. This storm was really working itself up. He couldn’t wait to
get indoors again.

He’d nuke a
heaping plate of that Bliss special, bum a couple of beers off Carson
and channel surf until he found Dexter
or Sons
of Anarchy.
Even CSI
or Criminal
Minds
would do.

But just before he
turned the ignition, he heard a sound he shouldn’t have. An engine
revving, tires spinning on ice and the bone-jarring sound a clutch
makes beneath an impatient foot.

Three River Ranch
had a trespasser.

…

Thank goodness she’d
had time to switch out the black plastic boots for proper footwear,
thought Frankie Sylva, looking down at her ridiculous elf suit. It
was hardly suitable for being stuck in a truck and buried in snow.

But teachers-on-call
couldn’t let any job go by, however short or humiliating.
Especially when that job dove-tailed with the other passion in her
life: animal rescue.

She’d succeeded,
and that gave her a glow that even the stinging snow couldn’t
erase. Score one for the good guys! The precious creatures she’d
transported to the Three River Ranch sanctuary would now have a
chance to live as nature intended, rather than being turned into
Christmas dinner. Or trophies on a wall.

She shuddered.

Focus!
She tugged the ridiculous puff-ball-topped toque further onto her
head but it did little to protect her from the frigid wind, which
seemed to get stronger every second.

Frankie stood on the
upside of the gentle slope into which the rear tires of the trailer
had slid when she’d attempted to pull it from the corral gate.
Invisible ditch. Good one, Universe. The snow around her was
dirt-spattered and hoof-trampled but she couldn’t help that now.

She needed a tow
truck. Unfortunately, she found her cell phone lying on the floor of
the cab in a puddle of melted snow, dead as a doornail. No blaming
that
on the universe.

If only she’d told
someone where she was going over the holidays, maybe there would be a
chance a friend would come looking for her. But this year was an
aberration. Normally, she roasted a turkey and invited everyone and
anyone she knew who would otherwise be alone. Then, she’d serve
meals at a soup kitchen, clean cages at the animal shelter, sing in
the community choir, whatever she could to help.

There were plenty of
causes that needed her, and she’d learned to love volunteering at
Christmas. She’d made tons of friends this way. But they were, as
the saying went, the kind of friends who help you move, not the kind
who helped you move a body.

Or in this case,
five bodies.

Independence, it
seemed, had its down side.

But this kind of
thinking, she admonished herself, wasn’t the least bit helpful.

Her second-best plan
was to unhitch the trailer and leave it until the storm blew over and
she could dig her way out.

She shone her
flashlight over the connection between her boss’s now-empty truck
and trailer.

The rig had been
prepped, loaded and idling when she’d told the driver he didn’t
have to make the haul to the slaughterhouse after all, that she’d
do it for him. He’d tossed her the keys so fast her cover story was
pretty much wasted.

Unfortunately, he’d
also assumed she knew how a hitch worked. Or how to back up on a
single-lane road. Or how to craft a contingency plan.

The animals were
free, that was the important thing. Her evil boss wouldn’t be
barbequing them as burgers next summer. So she’d miscalculated the
storm. So she’d spend the night in the truck. She had trail mix.
She had a flashlight. She’d be okay. It would be fine.

Two words, and oh,
baby. No gruff old-timer, his voice sounded young, strong…and
smoky, full of…campfire stories… and marshmallows roasted on
fresh-cut branches… She gave her head a shake. Don’t
be an idiot, Frankie.

He was a man with a
truck.

“I’m stuck.”
She put on her most innocent grin and faced the headlights. She
couldn’t see a thing through the snow. “Can you help me out?”

Three River was
supposed to be empty over Christmas. At least, the ranch’s Facebook
page had indicated the family was in Maui. The mustang sanctuary was
well-known among animal lovers and Frankie felt certain they’d have
helped her cause, if she could have asked them. So she’d taken a
chance that they wouldn’t mind. That in fact, they’d never know.

Yet here was a man,
from what she could hear over the snarl of engines and wind. A man
unexpected, in every way.

But what if he was
private security? Or worse, a game warden.

Stop it! Think
positively, Frankie!

Maybe, despite the
little mishap with the ditch, the universe was on her side after all.
Maybe this was just a kindhearted local who’d be delighted to help
out a damsel in distress.

The man stepped out,
leaving the engine running and the driver’s door standing open.
This time she caught a glimpse of a cowboy hat and beneath it, a
stubbled jawline. Broad shoulders. And tall. He held up a much better
flashlight than the one she had, shining it high, scanning the truck,
the listing trailer. Then scanning her. The beam of light traveled
over her body, up and down, leaving no inch untouched. Warmth rose to
her cheeks, prickly in the winter air.

“Wanna tell me who
you are and what you’re doing here?” He cleared his throat and
she thought she heard the glimmer of a smile. “Lost on your way to
work?”

“Ha-ha.” She
sighed and stamped her feet, aching with cold now that she was
standing still. “Yes, I’m wearing an elf costume. Can you pull me
out or what?”

He walked up to the
trailer and shone the beam inside. He moved smoothly,
deliberately—like a hunter she thought, her breath quickening.

“That option
disappeared about six inches ago, I’d say.” The man knocked his
fist against the side of the truck, the metal echoing hollowly, and
then he moved the light off her and aimed it out into the empty
field. “Red LeClair, Lutherton sheriff and currently in charge of
this icy little slice of heaven. Wanna tell me what’s going on out
here? Ma’am?”

Sheriff!
Universe: home run, Frankie: out.

Frankie followed his
light where it dissolved in the darkness, watched it catch on low
shrubs and rocks sticking up through the snow. She swept a gloved
hand over her cheek and bit her lip. She’d expected the animals to
bound off into the sunset the second she opened the trailer, but it
hadn’t happened like that. They’d wandered off to the nearest
wooded area, but that’s as far as they’d gone. At least the snow
was coming down so hard and fast their hoofprints were nearly covered
already. But would they find the food set out for the mustangs? They
wouldn’t last long in this weather.

Go! Run! She urged
them silently. Had she been too late? Were they already too
habituated to humans? This was the perfect location for them.
Perfect!

As his light moved,
she could see the gleam of eyes, still watching from the woods. Darn!

“Look,” she
said, eager to draw his attention back. “I’m sure this looks a
little…odd—”

“What this looks
like,” he said, clicking off his light and crossing his arms, “is
trespassing. For starters.”

She swallowed.
“Technically, you might have a point. But I can explain.”

“How about we
start with your license and registration, please. Ma’am.”

And that’s when
Frankie began to suspect the universe wasn’t just having a little
fun at her expense, but was in fact a PMSing hag. She rummaged
through the glove box until she found the crumpled insurance papers
belonging to Conrad Toole, the man who owned the truck and the
dilapidated roadside Christmas display she’d been part of. Until
tonight, when she’d liberated the five young elk he’d been
parading as reindeer.

She could see how
this might appear sketchy.

“Nice to meet you,
Francesca Sylva of Kalispell, Montana,” said the man, looking up
from her license, checking the photo against reality. Then he held up
the truck papers. “You’re a long way from home, ma’am.”

The wolfish glint in
his eyes was at odds with his gentlemanly words. Time to work that
damsel-in-distress business, hard. “Thank goodness you happened
along, Sheriff! I’m delivering this empty trailer to my…brother…and
I’m afraid I got turned around.” She batted frozen lashes.

“Now I’m stuck,”
she continued, forcing her numb lips into what she hoped was a smile.
“I just need a push. If you could help me get those pesky wheels
back onto solid ground, or maybe lend me your cell phone, I’d be so
grateful.”

At that, his eyes
narrowed. “Really. You’d be grateful.”

Oh lord. That
sounded bad, even to her own ears. But before she could dig herself
in deeper, he went on.

“Since the highway
closed an hour ago, I’m guessing you got here via the back roads.
So unless your…brother…lives right around here, there’s no
place to go.”

Frankie looked away,
the quick hard thuds of her heart telling her that this escapade had
gone from bad to worse.

“You’re a lone
woman stranded on private property, while a blizzard of biblical
proportions threatens to shut down the entire county. Even if a
little push could set you right, you’d be stuck again within the
hour.” His gaze traveled down her body. “And you’re hardly
dressed for the weather.”

“Thank you for
your concern,” she said, inching back toward the cab of Conrad’s
truck. “But I’m certain my…Conrad…will be here any moment.”

She leaped
gracelessly inside the truck and slammed the door shut.

The sheriff sighed
and leaned against the gate, his shoulders hunched against the
nearly-horizontal snow.

Frankie let the
window down a half-inch. “You should go back before you freeze.”

He looked away,
holding his hat on with one hand. She shut the window and grabbed her
cell phone again, punching the buttons randomly. You never knew when
the darn thing would come back to life.

Nope. No luck there.
What a surprise.

The sheriff gestured
for her to open the window.

“No cell service,”
he called over the wind. “Let me get you to a land line.”

She pressed the
window button up again, wishing there was a way to slam it closed. No
cell service! Why didn’t he say that in the first place?

Her flashlight
flickered, then went out.

Oh come on,
Universe! Enough, already!

She willed herself
to breathe slowly but it didn’t work. It was only a matter of time
until the truck ran out of gas, or the battery died, leaving her in
the dark.

She tried not to
look at him, standing motionless in the circle of thin light, but it
was no use. Wind swirled around him, flinging eddies of snow into his
face.

Maybe he wasn’t
exaggerating about the storm.

She cracked the
window again.

“How do I know I
can trust you?” she called out.

“Maybe because I’m
still here,” he yelled.

Wind tore at his
sleeves, stealing his breath before it even puffed into the darkness.
Was he shivering?

She opened the door
and jumped onto a drift of snow that wasn’t there two minutes ago.

“Okay!” she
shouted. “You win! What do you want?”

He pushed off the
fence and took her arm.

“Finally. I
thought we were both going to freeze to death out here.” He herded
her to his own pickup. “Give me your keys.”

“What? Why?”
Before she knew it, he’d dropped them somewhere inside his jacket.
“Give them back!”

“Get in.”

She stumbled onto
the passenger seat, blinking. Her eyes were watering so badly she
could hardly see. “Am I under arrest?”

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